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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28985571">Liberation of The King</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadeline/pseuds/sadeline'>sadeline</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BG (before grogu), F/M, I will try to update once a week, I'm sorry class, King Din Djarin, Mand'alor Din, Pain, all hail din djarin that shall be king hereafter!, and an OC thrown in for those who want din to feel a crumb of happiness, but I am a busy bee, enenmies to friends to lovers to enemies to lovers in my fic?, eventual king din tho, eventual smut if asked nicely, eventually catches up to the present but the first bit is in the past, except you are also on fire, girl aint nobody lookin at that damn frog, im just kidding he comes back later i love my son, lots of...feelings, more likely than you think, simplee just a din djarin character study, slowest of burns, the people asked for king din so I simply must oblige, think controlled forrest burn to stop forrest fires</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:27:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,382</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28985571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadeline/pseuds/sadeline</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"If he messed this situation up, if he chose a darker path, he truly was a failure of a man. Goodness was simply handing itself over to him on a silver platter, begging to be devoured and enjoyed. He was being paid more, with no affect to his reputation, to make the right decision. This was a no brainer. He had to at least try. Maybe, just maybe, if he helped her free a large sum of people, this undiluted act of goodness could knock off a few points from his unholy ledger of blood. Perhaps he would find salvation from whatever damnation awaited him in the afterlife. Damnation years of ruthless bloodletting afforded him. He was no fool, so he knew he was no saint."</p><p>The fic where I beg the question, "What if Bo Katan can't defeat Din and Din becomes Mand'alor?"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), the mandalorian - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Aggressive Negotiations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>"I think the King is but a man, as I am. The violet smells to him as it doth to me. The element shows to him as it doth to me. All his senses have but human conditions. His ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man."<br/>-William Shakespeare, Henry V</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>5 YEARS BEFORE THE CHILD:</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“You must understand that this will not be your normal bounty, <em>Mandalorian</em>. She cannot he harmed. My niece <em>must</em> be brought in safely,” Said the politician. He stood before Din in full regalia, pressed fabrics and shined boots. Tinkling medallions resting on the left breast of his uniform button up, and gold cuff links glinting in the soft amber light of the cantina, “No matter what she must return to me...<em>alive</em>.” The senator had the lilt of a core world accent, haughty and upper-class. Just the type Din only cared for when the credits were right. Fortunately for Senator Ree Lador, the credits were indeed...<em>right</em>. They usually were when a bounty came from money.</p><p>The job seemed simple enough. Captured princess. Locate her and take out the captor. Bring her back. Receive credits. Move on. <em>Simple</em>.</p><p>What wasn’t simple was figuring out how to get the man in front of him to wrap it up so he could get going. The senator had a way of saying the same thing twenty different ways.</p><p>“Truly it is of <em>great</em> importance that my <em>beloved</em> niece be returned-“</p><p>“Safely,” Din finished curtly, “I can assure you she won’t come to harm.”</p><p>“<em>Good</em>. We will pay forty thousand up front. The credits are being transferred as we speak. That should cover travel costs. <em>For now.</em>” He appeared to sigh and falter at this, which Din took quick note of, “If you need more. Simply find my contact here on Nevarro. He will transfer you more, upon an explanation of your...<em>circumstances</em>. However I’m sure you will make...quick work of it. Given your reputation within the guild...and much of the galaxy’s...<em>elites</em>.” He hinted. He began to soften out his snow white mustache with his index finger and thumb, throwing one last appraising look towards Din, “I haven’t seen a true Mandalorian in....a <em>long</em> time,” his brown eyes squinted, “Quite a long time <em>indeed</em>. Right...well. See to it then. I will be here with the credits upon her return.” Senator Lador reached a delicate, gloved hand forward, and Din hesitated, but took it in his own cordially. He didn’t like this man, but he wouldn’t show it. He would never reveal his true feelings. A perk of the Beskar. <em>This is the way.</em></p><p> </p><p>During their meeting, Senator Lador gave Din a recent lead on Princess Hari Lador that placed her whereabouts on a moon rotating around a gas giant called Abelor. Abelor II was a trading outpost and refuel station. A pretty good place to hide given the large population and crammed urban architecture host to alleyways and hidey-holes galore. It was also very loosely monitored by the New Republic at the moment, so there was a slim chance of anyone shifty running into those who would seek to thwart them.</p><p>But they wouldn’t be expecting <em>him</em>.</p><p>No, these official types sent <em>official</em> soldiers for this type of business. Rarely did they send a Mandalorian bounty hunter after their lost princesses. Maybe a lost belligerent duke out on a manic bar hop, causing problems for a families’ image—or, perhaps, the son of a senator’s sister wanted for credit laundering. But rarely is the life of the captured crown princess put into the hands of an <em>outside</em> source. They had teams for this. <em>They must be desperate</em>, he thinks. This mission wasn’t so straight foreword after all.</p><p>---</p><p>Abelor was busier than he remembered, but as he exited the Crest...the tracking fob at his hip began to beep steadily. Not so much as to indicate the quarry was on top of him, but enough to show she was there. <em>Somewhere</em>. Somewhere in the bustling city was the princess, and he was going to find her.<em> This is the way</em>.</p><p>The streets of Abelor II were dark and lined with patrons at vending stalls. The buildings above seemed to encroach upon ones space, as if to say “<em>you don’t belong here</em>” regardless of whether or not you did or didn’t. And for every bustling street, one loomed completely bare around the corner, illuminated by a single shaky street lamp and begging to be caught up in nefarious activity. The streets smelled of spice and bad food.<em> The perfect place to hide</em>, he thought, as he wove from street to street.</p><p>The tracking fob seemed to detect something here or there, but the beeping would go steady and slow again any time he felt he had picked up a solid lead.</p><p>Getting lost in the labyrinth of identical streets and alleyways was a given, each just as uninviting and similar as the last. Strange rodents scurried past here and there, and occasionally the clap of a shutter closing would rattle down the street, chasing after him as if to shoo him away.</p><p>Under the hum of a orange streetlight, Din was close to turning around and calling it a night, until...</p><p>“<em>BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP</em>...”</p><p>This was the closest he’d been all day. He crept forward, hoping to maintain the steady pings he received from the transmitter. The fob lead Din to an alley flooded with runoff water. The air reeked of wet trash and mildew. He took careful steps as not to make too much noise, and to not splash the murky water onto his worn trousers. The steady beeps continued as he scanned his surroundings.</p><p>Two grey buildings sandwiched the dim corridor, and the sides were lined with industrial trashcans and various crates. The buildings themselves went up at least four stories, and the alleyway was host to ladders and metal platforms that lead up to the rooftops. Din examined the platforms, and switched his helmet to tracking view to locate any heat signatures. On the nearest ladder, red handprints coated the bars leading up to the building on his right. Upon further inspection, his gaze locked onto a hooded figure at the top of the final platform, blaster holstered at their side, reaching for the ladder that led to the roof. The figure pulled themselves up, and disappeared over the railing. The beeping in his hand began to slow. <em>Target acquired</em>.</p><p>Din quickly maneuvered through the water and towards the ladder, and he began to make his way up. He made quick work of the ladders and platforms, trying not to make too much noise on the incline, but finding it increasingly difficult as the ladders shook and rattled against his weight.</p><p>He had thought the tracking beacon was set for the princess herself, but it seemed the fob was set for the captor. It was no matter, he would find her regardless.</p><p>Upon reaching the roof, he apprehensively glanced over the side, making full use of the shadows to hide himself from the captor.</p><p>The figure stood in the middle of the roof, riffling through a bag at their side. A gloved hand pulled a long-range comlink from the side pocket.</p><p>“If anyone can hear this. I need immediate pickup from Abelor II. Do you copy!? I need immediate pick up from Abelor II. Sector 8. Trading district. My ship has been destroyed and I need transport. This is—” the distress was cut short as they spun around, blaster in hand, aimed in Din’s direction, “Reveal yourself!” The hooded figure commanded, though their glaring anxiety betrayed them, “I know you’re there, so come on out!”</p><p>Before moving, Din made note of the weapon held steady in their hand, a DH-17. Rebel weaponry. Standard. He happened to know it took 3 long seconds to charge up and fire upon pulling the trigger. Din also noted the unease in their voice. They were frantic, unsettled. Made for an easier takedown, as they wouldn’t be in their right mind. Aiming a blaster was hard under duress—especially for a rookie. And he <em>knew</em> they were a rookie. He could see it in their stance and hear it in their voice. Easy takedown indeed.</p><p>Though it would be simple from his position...he couldn’t simply just shoot them. He needed them for information. If they died he would have no idea how to locate the princess, since the fob was clearly set to them and not the princess herself. <em>Why</em> the senator had done this, he had no idea, but it was all he had to work with.</p><p>“Drop the blaster and I’ll let you live.” Din bargained, his own rifle aimed at the weapon in their hands. It was a difficult shot, and even with his skillset, it was high stakes getting that gun out of their hands without harm. Din’s finger hovered over the trigger.</p><p>“I don’t think so.” They said with a smooth accent and light pitch that shook but demanded respect. They straightened their stance, “What do you want?” Din could sense the unease. The nerves.</p><p>“Where’s the princess?” Din asked—rifle steady and sights focused on the blaster.</p><p>“The...the princess? What do you want with her? Are you here for transport?” They asked genuinely.</p><p>“Just tell me where she is and you walk away from this.” Din said.</p><p>“Tell me what you want with her and maybe <em>you</em> walk away from this.” They took in an insignificant step forward into the overhead light, which illuminated sharp features under a dark hood. Human. Possibly female, but he didn’t like to assume in a galaxy so large. Tawny skin turned amber by the buzzing lamp above. Furious eyes. At this point he was almost fooled by their bluffing. Almost.</p><p>“I’m here to return her to her uncle. Where is she?” Din asked again, voice as level as ever.</p><p>They laughed, blaster unwavering, “Like hell you are! I cannot believe that <em>fool</em> sent a bounty hunter.” They nudged their gun towards the tracking beacon on his hip, “Of all the things! <em>Ridiculous</em>.”</p><p>“Where is the Princess? I won’t ask again.” Din said.</p><p>He was met with a spent sigh, “Shouldn’t your tracking fob be able to tell you that?”</p><p>“It’s set for you.” He said. In an instant, Din pulled the trigger. A red flash illuminated the dark roof, and the beam of his weapon jolted forward and knocked into their blaster, sending it spinning out of their hands and off to the side. Their eyes went wide as they back-peddled into a run, but Din was already within reach. He tugged them towards himself by the back of their brown puffed jacket, and they slammed into the rusted breastplate of his armor.</p><p>They writhed in his firm grip, “Unhand me or I swear to you, you’ll face the strongest justice the New Republic has to offer!” Relentless balled fists banged into his body without affect, “Let go!” The brown hood fell down, revealing a soft red scarf tightly wrapped around their head adorned with ornate beading and stitch work. The fabric was expensive and silken, something you only found on the core worlds. It clashed against the roughness of the rest of their attire, fraught with mud and tear. Din obeyed their wishes and let them fall to the ground unceremoniously, but aimed his handheld blaster at them before they could event hit the surface of the roof.</p><p>“<em>Where is the princess</em>?” Din asked again, <em>though he said he wouldn’t</em>. In most cases, he wouldn’t have asked again. He was a man true to his word. But in most cases, he wasn’t this confused. <em>Why would the new republic capture a Princess who he believed to be affiliated with the new republic?</em></p><p>A countenance of disbelief stared up at him with squinted dark eyes and a slack jaw. They stayed like this for a moment in shared bewildered silence.</p><p>“You <em>nerf herder</em>...I <em>am</em> the Princess.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Upping The Ante</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>apologizing for this fic in advance</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re the Princess?” Din said, confused, “Princess Hari Lador?”</p><p>“Yes! Now get that damned blaster out of my face before you’re charged with treason!” She spat. Her features were fierce and serious, and he didn’t detect a lie. In fact, she shared the smooth accent of Senator Ree, and her own features resembled his. The same tan skin and thick brows, though his were pure white from age and hers sported a deep brown. They even shared a nose. Pointed, the perfect nose for those who wish to stick them up at anyone deemed below them. She <em>was</em> the Princess.</p><p>But he still had questions, “Where are your captors?”</p><p>“Captors?” She snapped, “Is that what he told you? <em>Oh universe</em>, have mercy on this poor fool. Again...can you <em>please</em> move the blaster out of my face. I’d rather not die today <em>thank you very much</em>. And I’m sure you don’t want the <em>entirety</em> of the New Republic on you for assassination of <em>royalty</em>.” Din begrudgingly did as he was told. He believed her, and quite frankly he <em>didn’t</em> want the New Republic after him. Din knew the penalty for this type of crime, and while the New Republic didn’t execute its citizens...he rather enjoyed seeing the light of day. He didn’t know why the Senator didn’t inform him that the princess wasn’t actually captured, and he didn’t care as long as he received credits after her return. Fuel was getting pricey, and he was starting to run low. Whatever convoluted situation they had going on was none of his business.</p><p>“Thank you.” She pulled herself up from the ground and began to dust herself off. The rooftop was covered in grey dust from a local mining rig. Most of the city was. “Now. Whatever my uncle is paying you...I’ll pay double that upon delivery to the New Republic base on Naantoo. I must provide my intel to Leia Organa <em>immediately</em>.”</p><p>“I’m not a delivery service.” Din said, “You’re going back to your uncle as promised.” While the thought of extra credits did sound nice, his reputation was solid within the guild. <em>This</em> wasn't worth it. </p><p>“Like hell I am!” She squeaked, stepping back, “If you won’t...I’ll just get someone else to do it.” She pulled the comlink out again, “Can <em>anyone</em> read me? <em>Anyone? </em>I need to get off this rock NOW.” The com static popped and fizzed. No signal.</p><p>Din didn’t know what to think. Or to do. The princess being unwilling was <em>not</em> part of his plan. He wasn’t one to expect gratitude as if it was owed to him, but that <em>was</em> what he expected for practical reasons. <em>Was he to just...carry her out to his ship?</em> He knew she probably wouldn’t go without a fight, and while Abelor II wasn’t the cleanest planet, a frantic woman propped over his shoulder would be sure to draw unwanted attention.</p><p>This is when Din remembered the Lecepanine darts he had stolen off a bounty two months prior, carefully settled in a pouch on his belt. She wouldn’t be happy when she woke up on the Crest, but he could live with that. As she continued to call out on the comlink fruitlessly, he reached into the pouch, procured the tube apparatus and loaded a single red dart in the end piece. Carefully, he lifted the bottom of his helmet to place the tube on his lips. With one blow, a dart whizzed from the tube and into her right arm.</p><p>“What the-” she reached for the dart, dropping the comlink which landed onto the dusty roof with a clatter, rousing a small cloud of dust, and plucked the needle from her arm to investigate, already beginning to slouch, “Dzid....you....” she slurred, “shzoot me...with...a...” she fell to the floor onto her hands, “what was...” her eyes began to flutter shut as she reached a lazy arm up, “you don’t...know...” she slumped onto the ground entirely. Out cold.</p><p>Din hunched over and took the princess into his arms, carefully adjusting her legs over his right arm and her head in the other. It was going to be a long journey back to the ship. He thanked whoever was listening for her light weight, as his lower back would be appreciative later.</p><p>---</p><p>Hari woke with a jump and a gasp. Her arms were stiff against her body, and she found herself sitting in the chair of an unknown cockpit. The blue glow of hyperspace filled her vision, and to her left, she was met with the back of a helmet. <em>His</em> helmet. The memories began to flood back to her, and she quickly realized what had happened.</p><p>“You <em>tranquillized</em> me?” She shrieked, which sent blood pounding to her forehead. She winced but continued anyways, “Like a damn rabid Fathier!?” Looking down, she realized he had tied her to the chair, and her arms were strapped to her sides, “Get this off of me!” She struggled against the ropes.</p><p>“Oh. You’re awake.” He said nonchalantly, “Well be at Nevarro in about two hours.”</p><p>“NEVARRO!” An octave higher, and her ululation could've shattered the window of the cockpit. She tugged harder on the ropes as if it was going to get her anywhere, “I need to get to Naantoo. You have no idea what you’re doing!”</p><p>“I’m delivering you to your uncle as promised.” He said, still facing forward in his seat.</p><p>“You’re delivering me to a pompous greedy <em>bastard</em> is what you’re doing! Get these ropes off of me and redirect our course to Naantoo if you know what’s good for you.” The Mandalorian didn’t respond, which only fueled her ire further, “Are you even listening to me?” <em>Still no response</em>. She stuck a leg forward and gave his chair a solid kick with her scuffed boot, rattling his posture, “Untie me skud licker or I will have this ship in impound faster than you can beg me to stop.”</p><p>“<em>Stop</em>.” He said without feeling, then looked around the cockpit, “Well, I guess you were wrong. Ships still in flight.” He continued with his piloting.</p><p>“You don’t understand!” She began to plead, “Thousands of Twi’lek lives are at stake. Does that mean nothing to you? Children too! <em>Children</em>! If I don’t get this intel on the slavers to Leia soon, all our progress could be lost. This particular slaver relocates quickly. Please!” She was begging and she hated it, but she didn’t know what else to do. Ever so slightly, she noticed his chair turn. <em>She was getting somewhere</em>. “Please. I’m trying to do something good here. My uncle only cares about tax breaks and me voting on them. I’m trying to abolish the slave trade. Whatever he’s paying you, I can double—no <em>triple</em> the credits. I just need to get to that base. <em>Please</em>!” He remained silent, but his hand hovered above the hyperdrive handle. He <em>was</em> listening.</p><p>A realization dawned on her that part of his hesitation may be due to his reputation within the guild. Not delivering on a bounty wasn’t exactly met with praise, and knowing her uncle, he probably paid up front. She also knew Mandalorians followed a strict code, and kept their word. Hari then understood what she was asking of him. It wasn’t as straightforward as previously thought. She’d have to up the ante on her bargaining.</p><p>“Look, I’ll quadruple the credits, have your ship tuned by my personal ship technician—the best on my planet—and I’ll have a contact speak to your guild leader about why you didn’t deliver. I’ll also handle my uncle. I know you made a deal with him, but this goes beyond any of us.” She sighed, “I can’t bare to live in a galaxy where beings are <em>owned</em>. It isn’t right. It’s sickening. I’m sure you know what they do with young Twi’Lek girls. It’s <em>immoral</em>. I won’t stand for it! Now please untie me and redirect our course to Naantoo.” He sat unmoving, but ever so slowly, the hyperdrive handle moved backwards. The blue of hyperspace slowly faded from view, replaced by the vastness of open space.</p><p>He turned around in his chair and she heard a modulated sigh. The Mandalorian leaned his bulky armored frame towards her and began to untether the ropes, “I will take you to Naantoo.” </p><p>Her eyes went wide with delight, “Oh thank you! I promise you won’t regret it.”</p><p>“I hope you’re right.” He said flatly, “It’s going to be a long trip from here. Eight hours at least.” The ropes were removed entirely and she rubbed her arms and gave herself a once over. Her head pounded from the sedative, and she still couldn’t feel her toes, but by the stars did she negotiate the hell out of that situation. She hoped her father was beaming with pride in the afterlife. This whole situation would’ve gone a lot differently had he not taught her everything he knew about <em>negotiations</em>. And <em>Mandalorians</em>.</p><p>---</p><p>“Soooo...” the princess said after at least an hour of shared silence in hyperspace, “Do you have a name? Or am I calling you Mando for the remainder of our time together?”</p><p>“That would be best.” Din said. There was no need to get comfortable with someone who was supposed to be his quarry. He didn’t know why he was doing this in the first place.</p><p>Well...<em>he did</em>. But he wasn’t <em>thrilled</em> about it. But he could at least admit to himself that the prospect of helping someone free an oppressed group of people did feel a whole lot better on his conscious than delivering a princess to her seedy uncle with ulterior motives. He didn’t like the man anyway, and his niece was admittedly a <em>better person</em>, from the looks of it at least.</p><p>“Alright <em>Mando</em>...” she said, toying with the moniker. He watched her cross her arms in the reflection of the front window, “So...why <em>bounty hunting</em>?”</p><p>Din hesitated, but humored her, “It’s what I’m best at.”</p><p>“Oh I’m sure. But...don’t you ever get...I don’t know...tired of it? Always fighting people...for pocket change? Fuel money?”</p><p>Din sighed, “Is there a point here...”</p><p>“Not really. Just wanting to get to know the <em>valiant</em> <em>knight</em> who rescued me from my,” she created air quotes with her fingers, “<em>Captors</em>.” She gave an airy chuckle, “I can’t believe he told you I was kidnapped. The nerve of that clown. I cannot wait til I find some other <em>clown</em> to marry so I can get rid of him for good.” She sighed, “While I do adore my planet and people...our rules regarding gender and royalty are a bit...<em>backwards</em> to say the least.”</p><p>“Pruellia won’t let women rule.” Din added, knowing at least that much about the conservative planet. Pruellia was known galaxywide for its strict traditions, just as well as Mandalore. Though Mandalorians couldn’t care less about something as trivial as gender. They only cared about how well you could <em>fight</em>.</p><p>“Ah, so you know. Then I will keep my woes to myself.” She shook her head, “My uncle says now isn’t the time to challenge tradition...but I say now is the perfect time. It’s been a year since the fall of the empire. My people are clamoring for change...he just...won’t allow it. And I unfortunately have to listen. <em>For now</em>. Until I find a man who doesn’t annoy me...But that’s like trying to find a rock in a nebula.” She sighed, “You wouldn’t happen to know any men around my age that only speak when spoken to?”</p><p>Din found himself amused by her lament, “No.” he replied, “Can’t say that I do.”</p><p>“A shame. Well...back to the drawing board I suppose. My mother is probably turning in her grave at the sight of her unmarried daughter at this age. If it had been up to her...I would’ve been married off at 19.” She shuddered, “To the lord of Pruellia III. A ghastly little man. He smelled like my grandmother and only reached my nose in height. I told my father if he agreed to that I’d run off to wild space never to return. Long story short, I remain unmarried.”</p><p>“What happened to your parents?” Din found himself asking.<em> Why did he ask that?</em></p><p>She was quiet for a moment before responding, “<em>Alderaan</em> happened.” She lowered her gaze to the floor. She was silent. Grave. He regretted his question immediately, not knowing why he allowed the inquiry to escape his lips in the first place. <em>Too personal</em>.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” He said, hoping to smooth over any emotions he may have unleashed.</p><p>She looked up with glassy eyes, “Oh that was years ago. Others lost more than I did. <em>Much more</em>. They we’re just...at the wrong place at the wrong time. Royal duties. They…had to meet with the Organas. Something about the war…I don’t know. I can’t remember. I’m fine though. It’s been years. Truly.” He wanted to believe her, but her tone lacked conviction and he knew all too well the unrelenting pain of the loss of ones parents. And The Alderaan incident had only happened 5 years prior. This type of pain lasted longer than that. Much longer.</p><p>“Um...if it’s alright with you...I’m just going to...go use your fresher. If you have one? I’m a bit dusty you see. I was on Abelor for quite some time. And my ship...<em>my crew</em>...I lost them days ago in the explosion and...well it’s been days since I last used a fresher.” He could hear faint sniffing coming from her direction, and in the reflection he could see her hands wiping at the corners of her eyes. He nodded, and with that she disappeared from the cockpit. <em>'Great', </em>he thought. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Deliverance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Cuerpo de mujer, blancas colinas, muslos blancos,<br/>te pareces al mundo en tu actitud de entrega.<br/>Mi cuerpo de labriego salvaje te socava"</p><p>"Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs,<br/>you look like a world, lying in surrender.<br/>My rough peasants body digs into you"</p><p>-Pablo Neruda, Chilean Poet, "Body of a Woman"</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Doing the right thing was something Din found himself doing a lot of lately. A concept he knew in theory, yet had only toyed a with in recent years. Perhaps he sought redemption. Absolution after a lifetime of sin. Perhaps he had betrayed so many faces over the years that they had begun to blur together in his mind, creating one entity of his own regrets. One which chastised him in his nightmares, and haunted his every waking moment. Mistakes always catch up to you eventually, no matter how carelessly they were made. It’s easy to convince oneself in the moment an action is okay, but the regret takes its own sweet time to set in. A slow and painful process. Much like how creatures don’t know they’re being boiled in a pot until it’s too late.</p><p>Wickedness is a heavy trait to bare for a soul that started out light.</p><p>Perhaps he was just tired. His age was catching up with him, and there was only so long he could keep fighting against what seemed to come naturally. Being a horrible person actually takes effort. Both physically and mentally. He could’ve remained silent in his seat, ignoring her pleas for two hours until they reached Nevarro, but then later that night she’d join him in his dreams along with all the Twi’lek she intended to free.</p><p>It was easy to ignore the begging of other quarries. Most of them had ill intent anyways. Some belligerent, begging to be dropped off at the next cantina. Some promising to pay more credits than they were made of, so they wouldn’t have to face justice for the murder they brutally committed. If they became too vexing, Carbonite was just a deck away.</p><p>He didn’t even consider Carbonite for the princess. This would’ve been the <em>wrong</em> thing to do because the princess begged for reasons beyond herself. She was bargaining for the lives of others, not her own. This woman hadn’t done anything wrong, as far as he knew. She had simply been born to the wrong house on the wrong planet. The conflict between the uncle and niece was beginning to piece itself together as Din realized the princess most likely ran away in spite of the uncle for which she was charged to, trying to accomplish more than meaningless votes in a newly formed system of law. And by the earlier noted exasperation of the senator, and the way the princess seemed to carry herself despite all anxieties, this probably happened a lot. Evading royal guard countless times in order to pursue the problems at large. The senator had sought Din out most likely to scare the princess...to let her know he meant business. What’s scarier than one of the best hunters in the galaxy coming after you? And yet, she stood her ground in the pursuit of justice, regardless of how her voice wavered when she spoke.</p><p>If he messed this situation up, if he chose a darker path, he truly was a failure of a man. Goodness was simply handing itself over to him on a silver platter, begging to be devoured and enjoyed. He was being paid more, with no affect to his reputation, to make the right decision. This was a no brainer. <em>He had to at least try</em>. Maybe, just maybe, if he helped her free a large sum of people, this undiluted act of goodness could knock off a few points from his unholy ledger of blood. Perhaps he would find salvation from whatever damnation awaited him in the afterlife. Damnation years of ruthless bloodletting afforded him. He was no fool, so he knew he was no saint.</p><p>His body jolted at a scream which wafted from the deck below, “A minute of hot water? That’s it!? A minute!?” the princess wailed, and Din let himself sport a hidden smile he certainly didn’t deserve, and shook the bleak thoughts from his head.</p><p><em>Royalty</em>. So privileged. Though this one at least seemed to care past the point of matching a dress with a crown. She had higher priorities than dinner parties and ceremony. He could respect her for that. He could also respect the way she threatened his life, even though she didn’t have the makings of a killer and was clearly outmatched. It took a lot of audacity to threaten a Mandalorian, to threaten <em>him</em>, something of which she seemed to have in spades.</p><p>---</p><p>Cold water shocked any emotion Hari may have been grappling with from her body. She didn’t know why she let the thoughts of her parents get to her...it had been five years. Five long years. Each holding their own lessons to be learned. Five years of forced growth and introspective reflection. Five years of arguing with her fathers’ patronizing, self-important brother over what was best for their people. Five years of trying to tackle the endless grief of loosing parents at an age one shouldn’t be loosing their parents. An age when guidance is needed the most.</p><p>She didn’t know how Leia did it most of the time. Loosing a whole planet, her entire <em>known</em> family, and yet still a pillar of strength. Leia was younger than her by two years, and yet she had so much to teach when it came to bravery and durability. Of course Leia had confided in Hari from time to time, expressing the grief she felt. And yet, even in those moments she revealed nothing but pure resolve. Something Hari only dreamt of having. Well, she <em>had </em>handled the whole Mandalorian bounty hunter situation with quite the <em>resolution</em> and <em>pluck</em>. <em>Maybe she wasn’t so bad at that after all.</em></p><p>Hari had the rather unpleasant habit of nitpicking everything, including herself. She wasn’t giving herself enough credit. The bounty hunter was at least a foot taller than her, covered in Mandalorian amor and imbued with Mandalorian strength. Trained in Mandalorian fighting and steaped in Mandalorian <em>ways</em>.</p><p>The extent of <em>her </em>fighting knowledge came from the young government’s self defense classes, which abruptly ceased when her parents snatched her out of enrollment after realizing the amount of “<em>unladylike activities</em>” that were occurring. Activities such as fighting back and taking charge. Sleeping under the stars and going on expeditions. Learning about planets and identifying their native species. You know, fun things. Exciting things. <em>Necessary</em> things. Things leaders needed to know in order to be successful in their galaxy. But they didn’t see her as a leader, they saw her as their daughter. One to be married off.</p><p>She felt lucky she escaped the recent Mandalorian situation with her life...with so little knowledge. She felt lucky she escaped the slaver mission with her life. All the brave souls she had mustered to help gain intel...dead in an instant. Captain Jecs, Commander Tranwny, Crowley, and Eliza. All gone. It was her first critical error. One that left her feeling beyond devastated and highly responsible.</p><p>The one caveat in this situation was that the slaver that had placed the bomb on her ship did not know she was alive. He did not know she wasn’t on the ship at the time of detonation. He had no reason to believe he needed to uproot his operation, because he thought the one person with intel had been blown to bits. <em>Yes, this had to be true</em>. She was riding on it. And she needed to work quickly. Before Baz Leeto somehow realized she <em>wasn’t </em>on that ship and she <em>was, </em>in fact, <em>alive</em>.</p><p>She knew her Uncle would’ve been all but giddy had that actually happened, the next in line for the crown upon her death. The bounty hunter in the cockpit had been a message, she thought, to stay complicit and to know he meant business. She sighed and turned the water off, seconds away from the onset of frostbite. Her body was wracked with chills, and she had lost sensation in the flesh of her arms. She didn’t know how <em>Mando</em> did cold showers every day, but she also knew men tended to be warmer. Much warmer. An admittedly pleasant thought warm enough to melt her frigid body.</p><p>He was quite handsome in his own faceless way. Perhaps it was the mystique of it all. Or maybe it was because she was 26 years old and starting to get lonely, and he didn’t happen to talk all that much. She didn’t like when men talked, they never had anything of value to say. It was always:</p><p>
  <em>“Hari that’s unbecoming.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hari look how handsome and smart I am.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Princess Hari may I have your hand in marriage so I may take the crown? I mean...love you for eternity?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hari allow me to discuss in great length my growing collection of clone war weaponry and memorabilia, as if that isn’t the most bizarre and morbid hobby to entertain.”</em>
</p><p>It’s when men didn’t talk, when they kept their thoughts a savory secret, now those were the delicacy of the selection. The rarest of fruits. Those were the ones she wanted to hear talk, as they usually had the most interesting things to say.</p><p>But he <em>had</em> tranquilized her. And essentially kidnapped her, <em>even though he did change his mind in the end</em>. And heavens knew what lie beneath his helmet! She recalled those storm trooper dolls she once saw in a market, whereupon removal of the white helmet, revealed a faceless black ball, void of any human traits. For all she knew, she could pop his Beskar off to reveal a faceless void as well. At any rate, what person captures and kills people anyways? Not a very good one. But it wouldn’t stop her from being a least a little intrigued. If only a little.</p><p>---</p><p>“We’ll have to stop to refuel.” Din said, as Hari reentered the cockpit.</p><p>“Oh.” Hari said, still braiding damp curls out of her face. Din watched her reflection in the window weave intricate dark strands, “I need to buy a change of clothes. Hygiene is kind of pointless when you have to put the same clothes right back on. Do you think we could stop at a market as well?”</p><p>“I thought you had to get the intel to this, <em>Leia</em>, right away?” He turned his seat to face her. Her clothes truly were in disrepair. Coated in dust and tattered from collar to bottom hem of mud stained pants. The decorated scarf lay around her shoulders now, revealing hair with the shade of tree bark. The same shade found on Veshok bark—so few remnants of it left but it’s swarthy hue could be found in old Mandalorian children’s toys and artifacts from before the planet lay barren. Before the ground had been laid to waste. He had only lived on the planet a short time in his life, but memories of his refuge burned brightly in his mind. The surface of the planet may lay cracked and rough like the skin of his bruised knuckles, but it had been home. A warm and accepting one. One which had transformed a scared boy into a capable man.</p><p>“<em>Well</em>...it’s always good to look your best for these official meetings. I mean, I know my ship was destroyed, and my entire crew died. And then I was alone on a dust bucket of a planet for three days trying to contact anyone for pickup...but <em>moons above</em>! I wear dirty clothes and muddy boots and suddenly a couple people won’t take me seriously! These types that surround me remain prim and proper regardless of the war they had just seen themselves through. Expectation has longevity you know! You could drop a bomb on the expectations of the people I occasionally encounter and it wouldn't so much as rattle.”</p><p>“I need to pick up a stock of food anyways.” Din said, remembering the dwindling supply, “We’ll stop at a market on Yera.”</p><p>“The floating station in the Gateway nebula? Oh I’ve always wanted to go there. Is it true everything looks <em>purple</em> from the nebula?” Her eyes brightened at the thought of one of the most nefarious and grimy fueling stations he ever had the displeasure of encountering. The only reason he had chosen this one was because it was closest, yet she glowed as if proposed with a week long trip on Naboo.</p><p>“Yes. You will need to stay close after we land,” Din said, adjusting the coordinates, “If you want to get your intel delivered.”</p><p>“<em>Why</em>?” She gasped, struck with visible wonder.</p><p>“Lots of smuggler types. Pirates. Bounty hunters.” Din said, “Better be safe than sorry.”</p><p>Hari scrunched her brow, “I can handle myself. I handled you just fine!”</p><p>“You woke up tied to a chair.” Din said.</p><p>“And am I tied to the chair now?” She said. Din was quiet. She narrowed her gaze and gave her arms a good cross, “<em>Exactly</em>.”</p><p>“You still need to stay close. I’m not rescuing you from pirates Hari.”</p><p>“That’s Princess Lador to you.” She smiled, and he couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. The smile was coy, but her dark eyes were serious. In them lay a hint of something he detected within himself, but he also knew he hadn’t slept for several days. His mind was playing heinous tricks on him. Deliberate tricks, for his own brain knew how long it had been since he found himself close to another. He was thinking things of the dastardly variety.</p><p>Maybe in another life, he became a man that deserved something like that. Maybe in another life his hands remained unsullied by years of ruthlessness, and were clean enough to feel the soft skin of a princess. However this one was no such life. This was a life of deserved isolation.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Gratitude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Cuanto te habrá dolido acostumbrarte a mí,<br/>a mi alma sola y salvaje, a mi nombre que todos ahuyentan."<br/>"How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,<br/>my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running."</p><p>-Pablo Neruda, 'Every Day You Play'</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Din was rescuing the princess from pirates.</p><p>He looked away from Hari for only a moment while browsing the trading stalls, and lo and behold he turned around to watch her royal body get tugged around a sharp corner by a group of rather pleased looking men, disappearing from sight. Luckily, the tracking fob remained set to her, which he was sure her captors hadn’t known, so finding her would be a breeze all the while he maintained the upper hand in his future attack. It was taking down their <em>entire</em> operation that made his already worn body cry with protest. How many more bruises would he walk away from this with? He could only imagine.</p><p>But he also felt a rush of vigor. These men had no idea who they had just taken from. Probably low-level underworld types who had been unfortunate enough to not notice the woman they set their sights on traveled with a Mandalorian. With <em>him</em>. He pitied them actually. <em>But not that much</em>.</p><p>Din realized he was now completing the original job, rescuing a princess from her captors. This is what he had originally set out to do, so he was going to do it.<em> This is the way.</em></p><p>---</p><p>The beacon lead him to a warehouse near the loading docks where the Crest was being fueled. Two rather bored looking Aqualish goons stood posted by the back door, and by checking for heat signatures, he found a small operation of varying species: eight bodies in total. The count included the soon to be dead pair of Aqualish Din watched from an adjacent rooftop. On the second level of the warehouse, Hari sat tied to yet another chair, though this one she would not be talking her way out of.</p><p>These types had specific plans for pretty women with soft skin which no amount of bargaining would free her from. This was a concept she seemed to either not understand, or not care enough about. He had told her to stay close, but as they browsed the various stalls Hari would venture off, a jacket catching her eye or boots just her size. He’d try to pull her close, but she’d yank her arm from his hand and continue inspecting whatever caught her eye. Reckless. <em>It’s like she had a death wish</em>. Yera was filled to the brim with types all too happy to find her unaccompanied.</p><p>Yet when they had stepped off the Crest, her eyes had shown nothing but fascination as she took in the luminous purple glow that painted their surroundings. The nebula’s budding star gave off rich ultraviolet light whose rays danced off the particles of gas and onto the artificial surfaces of the station. Every inch of Yera found itself bathed in a strange dark light, and any lighter colors were distorted and brightened. The spectacle gave Din a headache even with his darkened visor, but the princess seemed to hold no qualms against it. She seemed utterly stricken with something Din had been unfamiliar with for years. <em>Wonder</em>.</p><p>As the two hit the market, Hari seemed to light up while using various languages to converse with the many vendors. Bargaining in Huteese. Haggling in basic. Arguing in a sign language he couldn’t identify. Falling into spells of deep conversation with creatures of all types with fluency and ease. Asking about the artificial weather system on Yera, main exports, crime rates, how old their son was and how many years they had lived there. Hari slipped between languages as if they were natural to her. From her satchel, she gave pieces of candy to any young ones around her, and palmed them lovingly on the head before she moved on. She would make a fantastic queen based on his observations, <em>not that he knew much about it</em>. The way she interacted with the world was that of its sole caretaker. And on this station, she probably <em>was</em> considering most of the vendors smiled as if they hadn’t been asked about themselves in a millennium. But while all of this was well and good, her recklessness and aversion to his warnings was going to get her into trouble.</p><p><em>And so it did</em>.</p><p>Her body temperature was lower than it should be, which was odd, but she’d be out of the predicament soon enough. He’d have to take the two posted by the door first. Then he’d take out the three on the main level skirting about aimlessly. Finally, he’d take out the remaining three guarding Hari. Light work, all things considered. He just hoped they wouldn’t put up much of a fight, for his body’s sake.</p><p><em>And they didn’t</em>.</p><p>The doormen were taken out with ease. With one quick backhanded stab, and the twist of a neck, the pirates with the Ysalamiri insignia on their garbs fell. The door sat unguarded, and the rest unknowingly lay in wait of his wrath.</p><p>The one closest to the door met their end at the edge of his blade, and he carefully laid their body down as to not draw attention with noise. Blood dripped from the gurgling human’s neck. Another was pulled towards Din with his grappling hook, and he swiftly snapped their neck with a crunch. The last one, a confused male Twi’lek, found himself kicked into the ground face first then asphyxiated under the sole of Din’s boot.</p><p>Three final bodies fell with a collective thud, following three flares of the weapon in his hand. Each consecutive blast painting the room in violent red light. Their contorted faces sharing a facsimile of horror as they fell.</p><p><em>Light work</em>.</p><p>Hari sat behind a freezer door, which thus explained her drop in temperature. A hiss and a squeak followed the door as it swung on rusty hinges. The princess shook in her chair and her lips were starting to blue. Din holstered his blaster and stepped down onto his knee to untie the ropes.</p><p>“W-w-what took you so long <em>Mando</em>.” She managed through vibrating teeth.</p><p>Din sighed, “I told you to stay close.” The ropes fell and Hari tumbled frantically out of the freezer, rubbing her arms and knocking about with chills. Din followed her and let the door close with a click.</p><p>“Th-Th-They said I talked too much. Threw me in the f-f-freezer.” She took stock of the room, and accounted for the bodies with a gasp. “Oh no. D-d-dd you kill them? They didn’t need to die...” she inspected the bodies of the pirates, her fists clutched to her chest as she attempted to warm sensation back into them.</p><p>“I doubt that.” Din said deep within his throat, “What alternative was there?”</p><p>She gave him a rather hopeless look that would’ve broken his heart had he believed such a thing still existed within his chest.</p><p>---</p><p>Hari did not like the scene before her. A slew of bodies which lay abandoned—<em>empty</em>. The dead were no longer people, but objects. Objects to be lugged around and pushed underground. She never understood the sentiment of an open casket funeral—her Grandmother’s left her feeling confused and out of place. Why did she want to see the structure that once housed the person she loved? What had lain before Hari in a casket of Pruellian Blue Oak was not her Grandmother, though it held her old form. She was thankful her parents’ funeral didn’t bare a similar issue. She never had to see what was left of them. Who would’ve been able to handle <em>that</em>? Certainly not her.</p><p>These things before her, lumps of cooling flesh—the light had left them. A light they held, no matter how dim it had become from years of looting and savagery. But regardless of these acts, they had still been <em>living beings</em>. Regardless of their actions, they still <em>lived</em>. </p><p>
  <em>And now they do not.</em>
</p><p>She wasn’t stupid. She knew there really was no other choice. But that wouldn’t stop her from acting on her habit of sentiment and trying to conjure one. A fool’s errand she’d admit, and her thoughts drew up blank. <em>These men would’ve sold her just like any of the people she hoped to free</em>. The universe was cruel in this way. But not always. <em>Not always</em>. Sometimes the universe could be kind. Something she often had to remind herself of. Especially in moments like these.</p><p>“Are you alright?” The voice was sincere, and the question was needed. But did she have an answer? Was she <em>alright</em>? Well, she guessed she <em>had</em> to be. These were simply the hazards of getting things done. Doing <em>actual</em> work to improve the Galaxy. And she had been extremely lucky when it came down to it. Lucky, that is, that the Mandalorian was there.</p><p>“Yes.” She replied.</p><p>He stared at her, unreadable. She wanted to see his face. <em>Oh!</em> She wanted to see his face. She was fantastic at reading people, but how can you read the unreadable?</p><p>“Come on. I want to show you something.” The helmet nudged in the direction of the door, and he began to exit. Hari followed, no longer wanting to see the aftermath of her rescue.</p><p>Maybe if she had listened better, these men she passed by would be alive. But then again, maybe they’d go on to capture someone else. Someone who wasn’t traveling with a Mandalorian. <em>Someone less fortunate</em>. She figured things always worked out exactly how they were supposed to. Her capture had happened <em>exactly</em> how it was supposed to.</p><p>Hari grabbed her bag, which hung by the door, and holstered the blaster they confiscated earlier. Yes, this all happened exactly how it was supposed to. <em>These men died for a reason</em>. Leia’s brother often said <em>the force works in mysterious ways</em>, and her capture and their subsequent deaths were simply a result of this concept. Maybe she had saved many other lives by getting captured. Maybe other women walked free because of her. <em>Yes</em>. This is what she would cling to for the sake of her sanity, for she couldn’t stand meaningless death. <em>Waste</em>. But these deaths weren’t meaningless. <em>No</em>. <em>Clearly they deserved it.</em></p><p>Hari followed Mando out of the warehouse, still shivering from the chill of the freezer. He walked onwards, without looking back, and she had no choice but to watch the back of his helmet and follow. She had no idea where he was taking her, or what he wanted to <em>show</em> her, but she hoped it would disrupt the tragic train of thought that chugged about her brain. He stopped at a speeder bike parked at the end of the warehouse, and swung a leg to sit atop it.</p><p>“You wanted to show me how to steal a bike?” Hari said, crossing her arms with disapproval.</p><p>Mando sighed, “Get on the bike and then I’ll show you. And I don’t think they’ll be needing it anymore.” He motioned towards the warehouse. Hari squinted her eyes in suspicion, but obliged with a shiver of realization and swung a leg over to sit as well. She shifted forwards and wrapped two arms around his torso, attempting to suppress a smile as she felt his body tense but relax. Once they were settled, the bike lurched forward and zoomed down the street.</p><p>Hari held on tightly as wind ran its long fingers through her dark hair. They zipped past the market where she had been taken, and then shot down an adjacent street that lead to a dark building looming over the skyline. They came to a halt, and Hari bumped hard into the Mandalorian’s armored back. He stepped off and held a gloved hand to her, which she quickly took within her own and stepped off. He nudged his helmet again, towards the building, and walked towards an elevator that sat on the edge of it. She followed him into the elevator, and he pressed with the tip of his glove a button that indicated the roof.</p><p>Hari couldn’t have prepared herself for the view before her when the metal doors slid open. As she stepped off the elevator, she felt as though she could’ve held a hand out and grabbed on to the nebula.</p><p>Yes, the station resided within the nebula, and the hazy atmosphere she had breathed since arrival was that of the oxygen rich gas cloud surrounding them, but the scene before her was unlike anything she had seen yet. <em>It was like a painting</em>. One unrivaled by even the best pieces in the royal art hall at her palace. Pruellia’s main export was fine art, but she doubted even the most skilled of her artisans could’ve fully captured the sky’s magnificence.</p><p>Gas swirled about and lightning flashed within deep dusky clouds. There were hints of pink and spots of blue. At the center of the nebula was a dim blinking light, muted by the clouds but insistent upon stretching it’s purple rays nonetheless. <em>A young star</em>, millions of years in the making, the reason for the station’s purple light. Hari looked at Mando, then back to the sky. Had he only meant to cheer her up? <em>Since when were bounty hunters in the business of cheer and kindness? </em>She had no idea why he had done this, but it took her mind off of recent events regardless. She looked back at him; mouth wide with an enraptured smile, “Thank you!”</p><p>He nodded, “You’re welcome.”</p><p>She felt as though she expressed gratitude for two reasons. One for the splendor he chose to share, and one for her <em>rescue</em>. She felt poorly about the rescue now, because in reality he was <em>required</em> to save her. He hadn’t saved her to be <em>nice</em>. She was technically his job right now, and his next paycheck. If he had lost her, he had wasted fuel and resources for nothing. Hari knew she would have to thank him further. <em>Oh but how! </em>She was soaking in the light of the proto star when she was struck with a fanciful idea. Something so ridiculous, it just may cut it as proper thanks. An idea that benefitted her as well as she simply wanted to do it. She’d blame the heat of the moment and picturesque scenery later, but the truth was…she had been thinking of it for longer than she cared to admit. Even to herself.</p><p>---</p><p>He had been standing on the rooftop with the Princess for quite some time. She stood still, admiring the array of colors and clouds. He simply watched her, having already seen this view several times. <em>The rooftop was a good sniping spot</em>.</p><p>She looked towards the floor, seeming to be lost in thought, then she glanced up from under long lashes, “Question <em>Mando</em>. Do you ever take your helmet off?”</p><p>“No.” He replied.</p><p>“Odd. I’ve seen Mandalorians take their helmets off.” She fiddled with her fingers on the railing in front of her.</p><p>“They weren’t true Mandalorians.” <em>Probably stole the armor in the purge</em>, he thought.</p><p>She raised a brow, “They seemed pretty true to me.”</p><p>“That is not the way.” He stated simply.</p><p>“The way?” She slipped a piece of hair between her fingers and began to roll it between them, looking up at him, eyes full.</p><p>He squinted at her from under the helmet, eyeing her preoccupied fingers, “If a Mandalorian takes their helmet off. They can never put it back on again.”</p><p>“Why not?” She was moving closer at an alarming rate. His eyes widened.</p><p>“This is the way.” He managed.</p><p>“Okay but why?” She moved closer.</p><p>Din sighed, and replied with a rasped voice “Its...a long story.”</p><p>“I’ve got time.” She said, “<em>Especially up here</em>.”</p><p>“According to your earlier concerns, you don’t.” Din said, <em>though he wished he didn’t</em>.</p><p>“I suppose you’re right.” She sighed.</p><p>Din was silent.</p><p>“Have you ever <em>kissed</em> anyone before?” Her eyes moved from the ambient swirls of purple gas to the shine of his helmet.</p><p>Din didn’t know what to say. <em>Why was she asking him this</em>? What was she doing? What was her aim? Humiliation or curiosity? He wouldn’t tell her the truth. He couldn’t see how it was any of her business. He hadn’t though. Other things yes, that…<em>no.</em></p><p>Xi’an had tried to convince him to kiss her with the lights off. She claimed she wouldn’t peek. He didn’t trust her with that. He didn’t trust her with much of anything. Touch was his forte. But kissing was beyond his reach. Forbidden. Sacred. Foreign. <em>Needed</em>.</p><p>Two hands now reached for the bottom of his helmet, he grabbed her wrists and held them in place, “<em>Don’t</em>.”</p><p>“<em>Relax</em>. I’m not taking it off.” She moved her face forward, leaning into the tips of her boots and up towards his helmet, pushing into the loosening grip he had on her wrists. A small, unfelt kiss was placed on the bottom of his helmet—his lips lay hidden underneath. She leaned back, reopening brown eyes, “There. Consider yourself <em>kissed</em>.”</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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